


Bent

by ColtDancer



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Intimacy, post Season 1 finale, post-FAtG
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-01 15:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4025086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColtDancer/pseuds/ColtDancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at Kanan's struggle once he is taken captive and interrogated at the hands of the Empire, the Ghost crew's struggle to accept what is happening to him, and [mostly] the aftermath.  Last installments may change in rating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Struggle

**Author's Note:**

> Back when Season 1 of Rebels aired and the fandom was reeling with feels, I kept jotting down bits and snippets of post-finale closure. They were just meant to be drabbles, but as the scenes and voices kept cropping up, they grew inevitably longer and are more like little ficlets - which I now share with you. Revel in the necessary evil of post-finale feels!

_"I know nothing of a larger rebellion…"_

It had taken too long to fight for consciousness and envelop himself in the Force following his last session with the interrogation droid; he found he almost preferred Kallus' brutal bullying over the Inquisitor's refined torture techniques. At least Kallus' were predictable. But the Inquistor was subtle in his ministrations, a sickening ebb and flow to the intensity of his techniques. Even now, the edges of his vision (limited, with the swelling on his right side) were hazy and exhaustion weighed on him like a wet cloak. His muscles twitched against their restraints with miniscule tremors, the flares of bone-deep pain preventing much rest or recovery. Bile rose once again to his throat, but dehydration clawed dangerously at him and there was little to expel.

He was breaking, and he knew it.

_"But I'd rather die…"_

And he would. He would will himself to perish at their hand before they succeeded in extracting anything useful from him. The last session very nearly had succeeded, on both counts.

How long had it been? Days, now.

He was so damn tired.

_They'll come._

_No._ That would be a disaster, suicide to the fledgling rebellion.

Hera would never risk that.Not even for him. Not for him, a wisp of a Jedi with incomplete training and no more hope to offer.

_That doesn't matter, now._

_Just don't give them away._

_Focus._

_Just … don't give them … away._

Strength. Let it flow from the Force. Breathe – there is no pain – 

 _...breathe_ …

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful art helped inspire some of the imagery that went into this drabble: [ Captured, by Lorna-Ka](http://lorna-ka.tumblr.com/post/111487487218/sorry-guys)


	2. Resolve

"Ezra, there's a bigger mission you're not seeing, at the moment. It can't be jeopardized for one – " she swallowed quickly, choking on her words. " – for one soldier."

" _Bantha_ shit! He's our  _friend_ , Hera."

The Twi'lek pilot whirled on him, and in that moment, something terrible crossed her features. Pain and emotion so conflicted, Ezra was certain Zeb could have felt it across the corridor for all his lack of Force sensitivity. Perhaps that was why her next words hurt, but not in the way she probably intended.

"One  _soldier_ ," she reiterated tersely, jabbing a finger at him. "In a larger picture – his life does not outweigh what we are trying to do. You're just a kid; I don't expect you to understand. But, if you honor him at all, you'll do good to remember what he has taught you."

Even as she hurled the words at him, Ezra felt the way a piece of her shattered in torment. He managed to wrestle his teenage indignation under control as she spun and headed toward the cockpit, a greater realization dawning. This was tearing her apart. Staring at her retreating back, he called after her.

"You think that going after Kanan, saving him, in some way compromises all that you stand for? That caring for him that much means you care less for the rebellion?" He's almost pleased when she flinches, her stride faltering and bringing her to a standstill before the sealed cockpit door. "Hera, they aren't mutually exclusive. You can love Kanan and still fight the good fight. I would think they go hand in hand. The very definition of what makes us different from the Empire."

Ezra shook his head, sighing heavily. He turned to leave her in disappointment, throwing over his shoulder, "But I'm just a kid. I wouldn't know."

The sensation he felt moments later, the wave of her silent sobbing, provided no absolution for either of them.

But maybe, just maybe, it could unsheathe a new resolve.


	3. Submit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra and the rest of the crew's rescue was successful, in large part to a whole lot of guts and luck, and a well-timed rendezvous with Fulcrum and backup. The Rebels have now learned Fulcrum's true identity after all this time, and realize they've just become part of something much larger than they realized. The ramifications of Kanan's captivity have just been thrown into harsh and grim reality.

The air was still thick with awe and curiosity, thrumming and alive as Fulcrum, exposed to the  _Ghost's_  crew now as  _Ahsoka Tano_ , explained the purpose of their past objectives, revealing the importance, once and for all, of the work they had been doing. The morale boost was palpable, and she paused for a moment to allow the weight of her explanation to sink in.

"To avoid any suspicion as unrest builds – and it  _will_  – when word spreads about this incident, we are going to avoid a direct escort back to Lothal," Ahsoka explained. "Our first jump will clear us of the Atravis System and will allow us to rendezvous with another runner for backup and additional supplies," she glanced meaningfully at Kanan, who frowned under the brief scrutiny, "…before setting course for multiple calculated jumps over the next cycle and regrouping near Sullust. Our first drop won't be too long from now, we should debrief you all."

Kanan felt Ezra shift beside him, the teen suddenly looking a tad uncertain. "What is it?" he murmured under his breath to his apprentice.

Ezra's wide blue eyes blinked in surprise as he glanced from Ahsoka to Kanan, an underlying expression of concern in them. "N-nothing. Just…now?"

A small hint of a knowing smile lifted the corners of Ahsoka's mouth and Kanan felt distinctly uncomfortable when she shifted her gaze once more to study him. After a beat, she dipped her chin once as if in acknowledgement, and her words were for Ezra, "Key word: brief. The more detailed questions can truly wait until you've taken respite, but it has been our experience that rehashing the worst of it straight away is both critical and cathartic."

"In other words," Kanan muttered, not bothering to mask the subtle acrimony in his rough voice. "Don't unstrap yourself yet. It's not over."

"But, Kanan – " Ezra spluttered.

"Look, maybe we really oughtta do this later – " that was Zeb, now, shifting uncomfortably behind them.

Kanan felt Sabine bristle as Chopper began to honk his own protest, but he cut them off with a curt wave of his hand. He stepped forward and looked hard at their newly revealed ally, willing the trembling in his limbs to subside. He understood the predicament. The ramifications of being in the Empire's hands for so long…well, he knew it didn't look good.

"C'mon, kid. Let's get this over with," he offered in weak invitation, before finally turning towards his crew. Hoping his resignation didn't bleed through his cracking mask, he offered with a smirk he did not feel, "It's a few questions. How hard can it be?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The initial relief and jubilation, captured by the ever-fabulous [Lorna-Ka](http:lorna-ka.tumblr.com): [ Reunion ](http://lorna-ka.tumblr.com/image/112622716628).


	4. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanan finally succumbs to the Empire's treatment.

Surprisingly, he hadn't felt it when he'd stared, unblinkingly, at the Inquisitor's body hurtling into the fire and smoke roiling beneath the trembling catwalk. He knew it was there, had somehow sustained and powered him, but he hadn't felt it.

Nor had he felt it as he and Ezra had raced through a terrifying gauntlet of explosions and shuddering durasteel to emerge, wheezing and breathless, in the hangar bay of the  _Sovereign_.

Not even as they burst through a cloud of charging TIEs, narrowly escaping certain annihilation by sheer number, had he been particularly cognizant of the rampaging wave of adrenaline spurring him on.

He felt it, now.

Like the crumbling precipice beneath his feet in his nightmares, he felt the final crest finally subside just as the tide returns to the sea.

The Force spluttered, then flared mightily around him in response. He was suddenly dizzy. The  _Ghost's_  walls throbbed with a sickening wave and the voices around him faded in and out.

The questions hadn't been many, but they had been succinct and arduous. Images and bits of memories were flipping in rapid succession through his mind and he had the sensation of being whiplashed. All of a sudden, Kanan struggled to reconcile that he was, in fact, aboard the  _Ghost_  and that everyone was safe, including him.

He must have made some sort of noise, because Ezra's presence was suddenly there, beside him with a steadying hand on his arm, and the kid's voice…how had it changed so much in the span of time he'd been gone?...was calm and quiet, more assured than he remembered.

"Kanan…Kanan, what's wrong?"

Kanan blinked and gave his head a small shake, glancing up to hear the rest of what Ahsoka had been saying, but all eyes were on him. He did not know how long they'd been staring at him. All of them, he realized, the reckless idiots. Safe,  _alive_ …

Insurmountable relief rushed over him in that moment and he gasped a tiny, breathless laugh, his knees buckling beneath him. Kanan heard his name again, from far away, as he was lowered to something unexpectedly softer than transparisteel flooring. He was suddenly so cold, and so utterly, wretchedly  _exhausted_ …

"Kanan, what's wrong?"

It was not Ezra's voice this time, and he managed to roll his gaze upward to see Hera's face looming woozily above him, fear in her eyes as she cradled him in her lap. It felt both marvelous and quite terrible. He wished desperately that he could assure her that he was fine now, it was all okay, but his throat and mouth were too parched to utter the words. His eyes flicked toward Ezra, who looked both worried and determined, kneeling in front of him. The sight of his apprentice, his  _apprentice_ , bruised but still whole, made him gasp again. His eyes burned, but the tears wouldn't come…

"Well," he heard the teenager mutter grimly, his voice echoing hollowly in Kanan's ears. "You did say 'brief'…"

Fleetingly, Kanan wondered if he should once more be disturbed by the kid's flippant remarks, but his vision was telescoping badly and he was shivering so hard it hurt. He numbly felt fingers pressing into his arms in an attempt to settle him.

He caught a glimpse of the wry expression that crossed Ahsoka's face and she shook her head in an almost fond sort of exasperation. Her eyes fell on him once more, her expression softening. "It's all right, Kanan," she seemed to say, without saying it at all, "You can let go, now."

And that was it. Kanan felt his mouth drop open wordlessly and the world suddenly stilled around him. The ringing in his ears faded. His body went slack, eyes rolling back into his head, as he finally lost his tenuous grasp on consciousness.


	5. Stasis

The hum of the star destroyer's sublight engines was louder than he remembered, the din of his holding cell altogether different from what he'd grown accustomed to waking to, disoriented and miserable. Before he could give himself away, he bit back the groan rising, unbidden, to his throat.

He barely found the will to slit his eyes.

He was still disoriented.

But, after an infinitesimal moment of taking inventory, not quite so miserable.

Kanan blinked, his vision bleary at best. He could not immediately discern his surroundings. The lighting was dim, but not the dismal black and shadow of his holding cell. This was a soft, warm glow that accompanied the gentle whirs and clicks of nearby sensor equipment, out of his direct line of site. The reassuring thrum of the Force was discernable, too, but no longer the manic, steady pulse it had been as he fought to keep himself alive and his crew safe. It was oddly comforting.

And wrong.

Kanan swallowed dryly, tentatively sucking in a breath and slowly releasing it when his ribs twinged in protest. He felt like he'd been wailed upon, for certain, but that hadn't hurt nearly as much as he thought he'd remembered it hurting previously. Instead, a deep and penetrating warmth seemed to envelop him, cushioning him in a viscous blanket of sweet-smelling, gently bubbling liquid. He was vaguely aware of almost  _floating_  in his semi-upright position, resting in an open half-tank, or tub, of sorts. Faintly, he could hear the murmur of an aerator in the background. Everything blended together so soothingly and he felt so fatigued that he nearly dropped back into sleep.

Something wasn't right.

His fingers twitched beneath the liquid surface, and he felt something tighten reflexively around them: another hand, plunged into the bubbling ooze around him, clasped his; another hand that belonged to his lovely, green-skinned pilot. With effort, he managed to turn his head a bit more for a better look.

_Oh._

Hera was slumped in a medical lounger beside him, clad in a tank and pair of sleep pants, a blanket thrown about her petite shoulders. Despite the awkward angle of her arm, her eyes were closed, pink lips parted in sleep.

He gaped, albeit wearily.

She was a sight for sore eyes. She was beautiful.

Kanan did not know how long he stared, trying to make sense of where he was and  _how_  he was there, but his head ached fiercely and was having none of it. He sighed, the breath ending on a ragged moan that he quickly swallowed, lest he was dreaming and truly  _not_  in safe hands.

Could he be dreaming?

The fitful dreams he'd been besieged with aboard Tarkin's ship had been fraught with disjointed images and quite a lot more pain; they'd never been this kind, nor had he felt the Force presence of the ones he cared for so deeply...

Then perhaps not a dream.

He was beginning to feel overly warm, now, and thirsty. He squirmed, or attempted to, in a vain attempt to get more comfortable, and Hera's eyes opened. She gasped, the hand that held his tightening further as she sat up fully. The blanket pooled around her slender waist and she looked as if she wanted to say something but words were a long time coming.

"Kanan…" she eventually breathed, and he felt the weight of fear and concern in her soft voice.

Kanan felt the corners of his mouth tug into a weak semblance of a grin. "…Hey," he croaked.

It left him winded.

"Hey…" she replied softly.

Her eyes were suspiciously wet.

"…I'm all right…"

Her chuckle was watery. "I very much doubt that, love. You've had a rough go of it for the past couple of cycles."

Kanan blinked heavily and considered her words, but all he could come up with was a rough, "Mmm."

Hera freed her hand from his in the tub and removed a thin compress he hadn't even realized was plastered to his forehead, wiping her tacky hand with it and reaching behind him to produce a small cooling flask. She was reverently gentle as her free hand slipped beneath the nape of his neck, her fingers nimbly pressing into the aching pulse points at the back of his skull while supporting him and tipping the cup to his mouth.

The amount of water was small but so blessedly cool and wet that he could not help the grateful noise of  _relief_  that he let out once he'd swallowed.

"More?"

"Please," he gasped, nodding slightly, and didn't care in that moment how ridiculous he should have felt in his helplessness.

Hera seemed pleased to lend the support, however, smiling gently and patiently offering him a few more sips. It was comforting and intimate, and for now, Kanan allowed himself to bask in it and her touch. When he took too much and choked, she eased him back and let him settle.

"What happened?"

Hera's eyebrow twitched upward as if surprised by the question, reaching over his head to the tray he assumed was back there. He tried to track her movement, but failed when the effort resulted in a fresh stab of pain behind his eyes.

"Adrenal failure. Shock," she replied, carefully pressing a fresh compress to his throbbing head.

The coolness and gentle pressure she applied were instantly soothing, of which he must have given some small sign, because Hera smiled tenderly down at him and continued in a slight hush, "Your body is as tenacious as your mind, fighting tooth and nail to come down off all that psychotropic paraphernalia and adrenaline. It's refused to sit down and shut up, even half-submerged in a bacta-bath."

Kanan felt his mouth twitch with a frown as he considered his current position. Shifting slightly, he could feel the faint pinch and tug of intravenous lines in his arm. Needing those - even with the use of bacta - Kanan knew it must have been pretty dire. But, the  _Ghost_  did not house a fully-equipped medical bay, much less a supply of bacta for anything other than topical treatments, perhaps an injection or two in truly serious circumstances, but certainly not enough for a dip.

"How - ?"

"Our benefactor - "  _Organa_ , is what she did not outwardly voice, " – apologizes that supplies for a full submersion tank were not readily available; the rebellion and its fleet are growing, but the logistics of getting to you and receiving their closest aid were a bit..impromptu. We did the best with what we had."

 _Ah._  The blockade runners. The rescue. It felt so far away, yet hovering at the edges of his consciousness, all the questions and pain and torture -  _keep them safe, there's nothing to tell, Ezra, no - no, get out..._

" _Ezra -_ "

"Hey," Hera's reassuring hands were on his face, "Kanan! He's fine, we're all fine…please, breathe, Kanan."

"Hnngh..."

"Take it easy, it's okay...shh. We're all okay…"

Kanan drug his eyes open - when had he let them close? – and held her gaze for a moment, the soft bubbling of fluid and his sharp breathing punctuating the silence that had fallen. There was something in her typically silky voice that unsettled him; something haunted in her eyes when she finally blinked and looked away, but he was so incredibly drowsy, and though he could feel the Force curling about him, he felt terribly weak and not particularly cogent. Unconsciousness beckoned him once more.

He leaned into her touch, silently pleading with her to not pull away from him now. Her touch was a balm to the pain and confusion. She did not draw away, though, allowing him to soak up the comfort.

"I wasn't sure…" Kanan sighed, his eyes drifting shut again when her fingers, unusually cool, carded through the damp strands of his unbound hair.  _I thought I might be dreaming…_

"Rest, Kanan. You're safe. We're all safe."

He felt the tight bands in his chest loosen, his posture relaxed again in the warmth of the bacta fluid.  _It should smell worse_ …

A soft chuckle.

Had he said that aloud?

A hand closing around his again. His fingers barely managed to flutter in acknowledgement.

The gentlest press of lips at his temple. Now, he was dreaming.

... _stay…_

The same, faint pressure at the bridge of his nose.

"All right, love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful and EXQUISITE work to accompany this part by none other than Lorna-Ka: [I've Got You](http://coltdancer.tumblr.com/post/132225951991/lorna-ka-art-for-bent-so-much-squee).


	6. Guilt

Good caf had always been Kanan's department, but for all her lack of kitchen skills, Hera would be the first to argue she could make one mean cup of tea with just the right saturation of sweet and a perfect compliment of cream.

She was weary, and after a lengthy discussion with Fulcrum -  _Ahsoka_ \- following the last debriefing, and an impressive array of arm waving and threatening from Chopper (who had outwardly hinted that she should check on Kanan), Hera had relinquished control of the  _Ghost_  at their last jump. Despite the oppressive fatigue she felt, she was restless and unable to sleep, her thoughts jumbled and her heart conflicted with emotion - and guilt.

Standing at the galley counter, she absently stirred her warm thermajug of tea while staring into the dimly lit space around her. Kanan had slept into the next cycle, waking briefly only when the medic adjusted the lines in his arm and drifting quickly back into slumber after Hera coaxed more water into him and smoothed the lines of discomfort from his forehead. She suspected that there was something in the fluids pumping through him that made him drowsy and malleable, but he desperately needed the quiet rest in order to heal.

Eventually, she was forced to leave his side for additional debriefing, and though she knew he would understand, Hera was anxious to get back to him. At least she was, before. Before she had been unsuspectingly subjected to the details of Kanan's interrogation sessions aboard the  _Sovereign._

In his tenacious efficiency while reconning, Chopper had managed to glean not only prisoner records and reports that disseminated Kanan's location, but also an alarming collection of video surveillance from the holding cells.

Knowing of Imperial techniques and witnessing their transpiration were two very different things. As her fingers dug, pale-knuckled and aching into the bottom of her chair, trembling with the effort to bear the sound of Kanan's screaming over the feed, Hera realized she was  _angry_. Angry with their allies. The reverence she'd harbored for Fulcrum and the Alliance and all the secrets she'd been privy to had been tainted, no matter how logical the orders had been. Kanan had already endured too much in his dark past, but this...

Ezra had been right to challenge her; she'd been too myopic to challenge their "orders". She would be forever grateful for the kid's dogged perseverance, but Hera wondered if she would ever be able to look herself in the mirror again for even hesitating.

And while blatant proof of his integrity under extreme interrogation had likely earned him respite from more direct questioning for the time being, she very much doubted Kanan would be pleased to learn his agony had been on display. She'd been unable to go to him ever since, even when she learned he had been released to his quarters with stable and improving vitals.

Hera shuddered and clenched the warm mug to her chest, breathing deeply through her nose and holding the breath a beat before exhaling slowly. She took a swallow to wet her suddenly aching throat. The footage had proven just how grisly Imperial torture could be, and in the end, everyone present had been visibly shaken. Only when Ahsoka let a moment of silence pass in deference before murmuring her own awe at Kanan's astounding, and frankly unlikely, resolve, did Hera believe she might be able to forgive - them, anyway.

She sighed heavily. Her drink had warmed her, at least.

Padding quietly down the corridor towards the crew quarters, the light that spilled from Kanan's open doorway was comforting, if a little startling, after so many weeks of disturbing darkness. At this time of the ship's cycle, most everyone was asleep and all but a skeleton crew monitored their travels through space. She understood why, after weeks of being closed in a dank and dark holding cell, Kanan would prefer to keep his door open, even keep a light on. Though, knowing he would fear waking the others with his troubled sleep, she was surprised he'd kept it open. She peered in carefully only to find him awake, reading.

Kanan leaned against the head of his bunk, slouched amidst more pillows than typical for him, with an extra blanket thrown about his shoulders. Even turned aside from the doorway as he was, she could discern the flush still spread high across his cheekbones, an outward sign - aside from the shadows beneath his eyes - that he was not yet feeling up to par.

"Hey," Hera greeted him quietly, knowing that she did not need to announce her presence, as he would have sensed her coming.

She felt awkward and uncertain, just the same.

She didn't like it.

"Can't sleep?" he queried softly, his voice gentle and unassuming. He looked up at her, setting his holopad aside. His blue eyes remained glassy, but his gaze was focused. The relief she should have felt in it was dampened by the fact that he still looked so very tired.

"I should ask you the same thing," Hera countered, taking a step inside and attempting to pin him with her scrutiny. "The door was open, and I saw your light on. Why aren't you resting?"

Kanan's shoulder lifted slightly with a noncommittal shrug, his mouth quirking in a hint of a wry grin.

"Not as easy as it sounds," he replied.

It was a simple statement. There was no trace of weight or bitterness apparent in his voice, even if it continued to sound gravelly. Of course sleep would not come easily, or gently, with everything he'd been subjected to during his captivity. And neither of them were strangers to disrupted sleep.

After a beat that lasted too long, she nodded. "Do you need anything? More water…?"

"I think I'm good," he quipped, tilting his head toward the recessed sill behind the bunk, and its small assortment of thermajugs and cups. "Everyone has taken my rehydration quite seriously - even Chopper."

"They've just been worried and want to support your recovery any way they can."

"I know," he replied softly. "And it's appreciated. I'm still feeling a little woozy, and the galley is farther away than I used to think it was."

She forced a smile and crossed the room then, clearing her throat and almost frenetically reaching out to fuss over the blankets, longing to touch him.

She had not realized her hands were shaking until Kanan's closed gently over them.

His eyes bored into her for just a moment and she looked away, afraid of what he might read from her. Her unease was unsettling him, that much she could tell; it was unusual for them. They had been so comfortable with one another for a long time.

But, now, Hera felt wound too tightly, and she knew it was the echo of his screaming, the agony written in his features, the fear in his unfocused gaze that haunted her even as he sat before her, on the mend. And she blamed herself. If she had not left him in the hands of the Inquisitor, if she had acted sooner to rescue him...if he had died, or worse…

"Don't look at me like that," she pleaded, unable to meet his gaze. Her throat was constricted and her eyes stung with a vengeance. She wanted to gather him in her arms and finally,  _finally_ , allow herself to break. Hold him, assure herself of his breathing, banish the horrific images of him writhing and howling in pain -  _all to keep them safe_  - but the guilt threatened to choke her out. She did not have the right.

"Hera - "

"I am so sorry," she gasped suddenly, the tears welling high in her bright green eyes. "Kanan…I thought I was doing the right thing – that I had to leave you behind for the benefit of the rebellion and everything we've fought for…I was  _wrong_ …"

"Shh," he whispered, reaching up to cup her cheeks in his palms, wiping the spill of her tears with his thumbs. His skin was still too hot against hers, his body continuing to wage battle, but the contact loosened a band in her chest. "It will be all right," he murmured, his voice catching suspiciously.

Hera's jaw worked and clenched as she took a deep breath. "You're still ill," she replied, shaking her head as if to chastise herself.

His hands lingered, outstretched and reaching for her for the briefest of moments, as she pulled away. Silently, he let them slide back to the bed in defeat.

"Hera…"

"You need rest. I'm sorry," she offered, swiping at her eyes and rising, hastening toward the door.

His voice, subdued, stopped her cold.

"My bunk smells like you…"


	7. Catharsis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised I was working on it, and I was! I can't believe it's been so long since the last installment. Suffice it to say that the content of this bit was extremely difficult for me to write (not because I don't like it, but because...well, it's challenging and embarrassing). I am indebted to [GondalsQueen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/gondalsqueen/pseuds/gondalsqueen) for being my beta and cheerleader on this. Enjoy, and thanks for sticking with it! Definitely changes in rating, here.

* * *

 

_His voice, subdued, stopped her cold._

_“My bunk smells like you…”_

 

* * *

 

Hera sucked in a sharp breath, her hand on the doorframe.   

In his absence, the nights she was on the verge of collapse but could not find peace in her quarters, she’d found her way to his, curling up on the bed and hugging the pillow to herself in desperation.  It had been meager comfort, but at least she’d found some rest there, where his presence seemed to linger. 

Hera turned back to see that Kanan had slumped a little more into the pillows at his back.  There was a question in his eyes, and he suddenly looked so... _sad_.  Her breath left her in a whoosh of anguish at his expression, stripped raw with exhaustion and fever.   

He didn’t deserve this.  Even if he’d made his feelings for her secret all this time, the way he looked at her - even when he thought she wasn’t paying attention - gave them away.  He’d always told her, without telling her, how much he felt.  Yet, he’d demanded nothing in return.  

Hera had not always been so forthcoming, their dance both enticing and frustrating over the years, but she’d deemed the protection of denial worth it - until a few weeks ago.  When the regret of never letting Kanan know just how much he meant to her nearly drove her mad, when the sureness of his capture and unlikely return crushed her heart with the anguish of that regret, she’d wished for the ridiculous chance to mitigate it.

Now, against all odds and common sense, she had it.  She had him.  

“It’s all right,” he murmured gently, averting his eyes and pressing his mouth into a resigned sort of smile, offering absolution with his words, always accepting.

It looked like it hurt.

It definitely hurt her.

“No,” she gulped, shaking her head.  It really wasn’t.  Not any more.  In two long strides, she was lowering herself back to the edge of the bunk, staring at his downcast features as realization began to settle her heart and her skin broke out in goosebumps.  

All this time, she’d been fighting with herself, but _why_?  Ezra had been right.  Why did one have to exclude the other?  This was her choice.  She could live with the challenge of juggling the connection between them and her responsibilities to the rebellion.  She could live - eventually, perhaps - with losing him to death’s door.  What she could _not_ live with, was the regret of letting him believe she did not, and could not, feel the same way that he did.  The regret of not letting him know that she loved him beyond words, and had for a long time. 

Tentatively, her fingers reached out to trace his jawline.  “No,” she breathed again. 

Kanan blinked.  His eyes slowly drifted up the planes of her face until they finally met hers, searching, but silent.  

 _No_.  It was his voice now, in her head, from the holorecordings as he fought the probing and drugs designed to break him.   _No_. That horrible, broken plea from the depths of his delirium as allied medics had fought to hold him down and administer life-saving treatment.   _No_ …

Her fingers barely grazed the bow of his parted lips, and she dropped her gaze to stare.  His breath, faint against her fingertips as she leaned forward, stuttered when her mouth brushed faintly against his.  The air was thick around them, almost alive, and she wondered what kind of intensity Kanan felt, with his Force sensitivity.  He had yet to move, she realized, pulling back just enough to focus on the tempest in his eyes, a torrent of emotion and uncertainty.   She tilted her chin just a little, and he adjusted this time to meet her, their breath mingling with hesitant, open-mouthed caresses. 

“Hera…” he breathed after several long moments.   

He was restraining himself, barely. 

“Yes, Kanan,” she responded, a desperate benediction against his mouth.  “ _Yes_.”

“Yes,” he echoed, over-writing the haunting memory of his holo-recorded voice in her mind.

A fervent, drawn out press of their lips and Kanan’s hands were skimming over her waist, trailing up her sides and drawing her close even as she wound her fingers into his hair.  She swept her tongue against his and he hummed, meeting it with his own.  Hera leaned in further to press Kanan against the pillows at his back, shifting her weight and sliding over him to gently straddle his hips.  He gasped, and for a moment Hera was afraid she had hurt him, but his mouth was now leaving a hot trail of kisses down and back up her neck, pressing against her lips once more and shutting off that train of thought.  Heat flashed across her skin and pooled in her belly, then spread lower as she felt his body responding in kind.

“D-Door,” Hera muttered, shivering when the hand that had been trailing gently down her left lek lifted, and with a flick of his wrist effectively whisked the door to his quarters closed.  His mouth didn’t skip a beat. 

“Show off,” she whispered, feeling Kanan grin smugly against her lips before they were lost again to one another’s touch. 

The first of their clothing was loosed and removed with reverence and very little need for words.  Their mouths were far too occupied anyway - until, with the electric contact of skin on skin, Kanan suddenly went very still, his arms locked tight around her middle, head burrowed in the hollow of her neck.  

Hera made herself stop squirming and tugging at his hair.  “Kanan? Am I hurting you?” 

His breathing hitched, but he did not immediately respond. 

“Love, what is it?”

A huff of a bitter chuckle, and his breath was hot against her collarbone.  Hera drew a deep breath, attempting to steady her hammering heart and distributing her weight across his lap and her knees.  The tight urgency that had been coiling low in her belly and enticing her to grind her hips against his subsided somewhat.  The live wire of their arousal dimmed, but his hands pressed more tightly into her to keep her from moving away.  She relaxed her fingers and drew them gently through the disheveled strands of his dark hair, dropping kisses and tender words at the top of his head.   

“I thought I was going to die…” he choked out against her skin, “I tried to convince myself I _wanted_ to die.  When I could put two thoughts together, I tried to provoke just the right amount of anger for them to crank the voltage, use just the right combination of drugs - anything it took - to keep them from the small bits of information I did know.” 

Hera’s jaw clenched in silent agony, her hands knotting in his hair briefly, pressing him ever-so-slightly more against her as she stifled a sob.  “ _Kanan_ …”

“I was terrified of my weakness, my _fear_ , Hera.  I was _afraid_.  It was getting harder and harder and they were so dangerously close...I would have betrayed you all if they’d had enough time, and yet I couldn’t seem muster the courage to make them kill me first, either, no matter what I tried.  I couldn’t think of you and yet I did.  It was selfish, hanging on to what I wanted and couldn’t have…”   

He raised his head enough to look into her eyes, brimming with tears that matched the ones trailing down his flushed cheeks.  She took his face in her hands as he continued, “I should feel ashamed, but now I’m so very grateful to have it.  I need it.  I need you, Hera.”  His eyes closed and he breathed in desperation, “I need you so badly.”

Sniffling, Hera bent and rested her forehead against his.  “You have me. You’ve always had me,” she whispered tremulously, feeling him shudder against her.  

Perhaps a Jedi of old would have considered him selfish.  But, Hera would argue that what he’d deemed fear and weakness had actually kept him alive long enough for the rest of them to save him.  Perhaps the Force had more of a hand in it than Kanan realized.  They’d taken too long, and yet he’d hung on just that tiny bit longer, and right now:  that mattered.  This moment mattered.

Her shoulders shook with emotion and she held him fiercely to her bare chest.  This mattered.  She couldn’t live with the regret.  “I love you, Kanan Jarrus...I’m so sorry...I love you, and I need you, too…”  

He pulled back, searching her face as if for some sign that belied her words and what she hoped he surely felt from the Force, then surged forward and smashed his mouth to hers, swallowing both of their sobs.  “I need you, too,” she repeated against his lips, and Hera suddenly couldn’t touch enough of him to assure herself he was here, with her.  “You’re here.  You’re alive…”  

Kanan’s hands gripped at her, equally as greedy, framing her face and then skimming up and over the top of her head.  “I need to feel you,” she responded hotly, the flame in her belly reigniting as he groaned an affirmation into her mouth.

His hands continued their way down to the tips of her lekku then helped her shimmy carefully out of her sleep pants.  She tugged gently at his pants next, trailing their descent down his legs with her mouth and earning stifled gasps and shivers in return.  She grinned up at him and slowly made her way back to his mouth, paying careful, gentle reverence to all the tender, newly healed places; the faded, raw restraint marks across his abdomen and at his wrists, the now diminished bruising of broken ribs, faint traces of the cuts and burns and needle points.   

His fingers slid between her legs and her mouth was against his once more, the kiss almost powerful enough to bruise but the need for _more, please, yes_ escalating until, coaxed and panting, Hera finally sank down upon him.  Kanan’s eyes rolled back with a moan that matched hers, and Hera nearly took a header against the bunk above when she threw her head back in gratifying shock.   She rocked her hips, adjusting in the cramped space, the motion sending a jolt of sensation through them both; it was almost too much.

Hera steadied herself with a hand to the underside of the bunk above her, Kanan’s hands hot on her hip bones.  She took a deep breath through parted lips, reveling in the _feel of him_ , gazing down through hooded eyes.  Kanan stared up at her, his expression one of rapture.  She smiled then, enjoying the flicker of pleasure on his features as she leaned over and tightened her muscles around him.  Reaching for his hands, she laced their fingers together and pressed them back into the pillows, setting a slow, intimate pace above him.  

Kanan sighed, “Force, _Hera_ …” and dissolved into an unintelligible rumble of bliss. 

She answered with one of her own, and for awhile, that’s all there was, the moment wholly cathartic with the heat of their touch, murmurs and sighs, soft pleas, more tears.  Her first small orgasm rolled over her, unexpected, and caused them both to gasp at the augmented connection between them.  Kanan’s hands squeezed hers before breaking free and pulling her against him.  Hera controlled the pace and effort, but Kanan met her, thrusts gradually growing a little more desperate and her position atop of him driving him deeper.  

Kanan’s mouth closed around the tip of thcun, tongue swirling, while his hand caressed tchin.  The second orgasm slammed into her and sent her vision white.  She couldn’t stop herself from crying out with the intensity.  He groaned, the vibration against her lek causing her to gasp his name and grind against him.

His breathing was erratic, sweat trickling down his temples, and he tore his lips away.  “Ah, _Hera_ \- ” he gasped, almost a whine, before he suddenly came hard and with such a drawn-out, guttural sound that Hera shuddered, her insides rippling one last time.  

Their mouths sought one another, breath heavy and punctuated with quiet sighs as they clung to one another.  Hera tingled from the tips of her lek to her toes with the buzz of euphoria and hint of what would be sore tomorrow.  Kanan had collapsed against the pillows, utterly spent.  She wilted against his side, arm draped lightly over his chest, and planted a kiss at the still hammering pulse in his neck.

She frowned.  His body may not have been ready for such activity.  “Kanan? Are you all right?”

Chest heaving, his blue eyes struggled to blink open.  His smile was punch-drunk, but genuine.  “Ask me again, when my soul returns from the jump…”  

“Your heart is beating so fast.”

He nodded against the pillow, lifting a heavy hand to caress her bare back.  “I’m all right,” he assured her quietly, kissing the curve of her lekku. Sensing her uncertainty, he swallowed and tightened his arm around her.  “That was one of the single most moving experiences of my life.  The connection to the Force,” he tilted his head to the side to look in her eyes, “To you, was…pure.  Powerful.”

Her fingers drifted over his cooling skin and found the loose hair at his neck. “How are you feeling?” 

Something akin to a purr left his throat as she gently sifted through the soft strands.  “Aside from amazing? Better.”  A yawn.  “And tired.”

“Think you can sleep?”

“Mmm.”  

He was already beginning to drift.

“Okay,” she murmured, using her foot to draw the tousled blankets closer, and reaching to pull them up, she nestled back at his side.

Hera thought she would want to lay awake and hold him, recount her blessings for hours.  But, she had barely settled when her weariness descended upon her and the reassuring rhythm of his heart against her cheek, the sound of his deepening breaths, had lulled her into a deep and restful sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, once again, even a mere doodle-sketch by [Lorna-Ka](http://lorna-ka.tumblr.com) at Tumblr (not even intentional) can fit this piece beautifully...[here](http://lorna-ka.tumblr.com/image/131373221528) and [here (rated: T)](http://lorna-ka.tumblr.com/post/113198562483/doodled-some-nsfw-ish-kanera-to-cheer-myself-up).


	8. Bent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanan is feeling better physically, but must choose which way to tread emotionally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's been entirely too long, season _two_ has now concluded in all its horrific and angsty glory, and I've worked on this piece for almost a year and a half. It seems really hard to believe how quickly real life can sweep by and how much time can pass, but here we are. Wow. If you've hung on, or come back, after all this - my humblest gratitude. I never, ever intended for this piece to grow like it has, be this long - and honestly, at first was not even planning to share it. Reading its first installment to its last, there have been a lot of pace changes and one can see how the voice and flow also changed as the "snippets" became a "story" and it took on a life of its own. Here you go; I hope it provides both fulfillment and conclusion.

 

The lighting in the corridor had changed to “daytime running” hours when Hera slipped back into Kanan’s quarters, cringing at the loud pneumatic hiss of the door opening and closing again.  Blessedly, Kanan was still sound asleep, his breathing deep and even.  Hera silently set the container of fruit she’d found in their restocked galley on the sill behind the bed, with its assortments of cups, and after a moment of consideration, began to strip off her sleep layers, studying him.  She could not tell for certain in the dim light of the cabin, but his color seemed better.  The lines of tension at his brow, the corners of his eyes and his mouth, had smoothed out.  Sliding off her headdress and letting it land atop her clothes, she took a breath, smiling, even as her eyes pricked with grateful tears.  

Hera wasn’t naive enough to believe there wouldn’t be lasting effects of this whole ordeal - there would be new nightmares and flashbacks, hesitancy, overprotectiveness.  Kanan would be monitored for long-term physical complications and stress:  headaches, muscle cramps, arrhythmias...

But, he _was_ recovering. 

He really was going to be okay, with time.

Hera hoped that years of recon and stealth work (and Kanan’s exhaustion), would allow her to climb around him and wriggle her way back under the blankets without waking him.  But as she eased herself into the small space and had no choice but to press against him, Kanan stirred.  For a moment, he seemed to wake gently, drawing a deep breath and beginning to stretch, but then his eyes snapped open and with a gasp, he went still. 

“Kanan,” she murmured softly, laying her palm across his chest, where she could feel his heart hammering in alarm.   

He blinked, his breath stalled for just a moment and his eyes wild.  

“Love?”  she ventured quietly, prepared to offer greater reassurance, when he suddenly released the air in his lungs and relaxed beside her.

Kanan closed his eyes and inhaled.  His heart rate slowed.  “Sorry,” he finally replied, voice thick.  “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

“Of course.” She waited a moment before reaching over, testing each mug on the shelf for one that still held fluids, and resting it lightly on his chest with, “Take a drink.”

He twitched as the cool metal contacted his skin, opening his eyes and holding her gaze, then nodded and shifted to fold his elbows beneath him.  He dutifully drained the cup and she took it, moving on to the fruit she’d discovered.  “Eat something.” 

There was a long pause in which Kanan arched an eyebrow at her and she couldn’t resist.  She fished out a pear piece and fed it to him, stifling the shiver that threatened her as his mouth closed on her fingers.  She smiled and watched with approval as, realizing he was hungry, Kanan reached for more.

Hera settled into the space beside him, studying him for any signs of pain or discomfort.  “You missed your appointment with medical earlier, but I scared them away when they came looking for you.” 

“Mmm,” Kanan hummed, swallowing his food and pausing to give her a squeeze and nuzzle her ear cone.  “My hero.”

“Seemed there was an alarming spike in your vitals last cycle, according to the monitor…”

Kanan’s eyes bulged momentarily, and he may have turned a bit pink before chuckling.  Goddess, that sound; it was low and easy, and it made Hera smile once more.  It was also incredibly appealing: the way it lifted the often-downturned corners of his mouth, the way the sound reverberated in his chest, made his graciously still-bare abs contract.

“I assured them you were fine and resting _quite_ comfortably, and promised that you’d make an appearance later.  But first, you’re going to rest, drink, and take your vitamins,” she murmured, pushing a piece of sliced starblossom past his lips.

“Is that right, Healer Syndulla?”

“Mm, but not necessarily in that order…” Hera added softly, chasing it with a kiss.  

It was sweet and tender, much like the fruit he was working on.  She could taste the juice on his tongue as it swept against hers, briefly, before he pulled away.  His hands skimmed over her shoulders, and he dipped his chin so that their foreheads rested together.  

His fingers traced her jawline with a soft sigh.  “Thank you, for last night.”  His eyes found hers and he smiled faintly.  “I don’t expect you to - ”

Hera abruptly cut him off with a finger to his lips.  “Hush, Kanan. Stop. That wasn’t pity, last night, or a recovery offering.  That was me.  Loving you,” she added, leaning in to brush her lips against his, lingering.  “And very much wanting to love you some more.”

His eyebrow quirked slightly, and Kanan allowed her to feed him a plump purple berry before she placed the container back on the shelf.  He chewed it slowly, and swallowed, “That could be arranged…”

“Oh?”  Her fingers danced lightly over his chest.

“Seems I’m free for the indeterminable moment…”

His grin was devilish.

Hera felt her stomach flutter, her grin matching his as her fingers continued their path across his skin.  His breath left him in a gasp when she drew a leg between his and settled her weight on him.  “Then we’d best make good use of the time,” she murmured against his mouth.

Kanan ground out something that sounded like an affirmative and rolled her onto her back, into the pillows.  His mouth was hot against hers - and though she’d been the one to suggest and entice, the heat of his touch was delicious; she let him take over.  Hera’s fingers wound into Kanan’s hair - she loved the feel of the soft strands, he seemed to like it - and she couldn’t help the wanton sound that escaped her throat as his insistent tongue managed to find the sensitive pulse-point in her neck, his hands gently cupping and teasing her breasts.  Hera whimpered at the deliberately languid pace he set, shamelessly raising her hips to grind against his growing hardness.  Kanan groaned and bucked against the sensation, rewarding her momentarily - then she felt him grin against her skin.

“Patience, love.”  At least he had the grace to sound breathless as he used Hera’s own endearment on her, licking, suckling a maddening path down her torso.  “I’m still re-adjusting to physical activity.”

He paused in one fleeting second to gaze up through his eyelashes and _honest to goddess winked_ at her.  His fingers circled a taught nipple one last time, then found the tip of tchun trailing across her shoulder.  The sound she made could only be described as obscene, her hands tightening briefly in his hair.  He hummed appreciatively and _kept going_ , one arm supporting himself as he worked his way down, the other stretched to fondle what he could reach of her lek.  She was panting and struggling to keep from shouting at the sensations, pleasure coiling tightly in her belly and wanting more and _more._  She freed one hand to grasp for her other lek, adding to the intensity she craved.  Then his mouth suddenly found the core between her legs, and she did cry out.  

Kanan moaned against her, clearly enjoying her responses.  The things he was doing with his tongue should be _banned_ for their sheer power, but the feeling (and the notion of soon having him in a similar state) was intoxicating.  She writhed and whimpered his name, he doubled his efforts, and when he flicked his thumb over her lek _just so_ , his tongue stroking and working her mercilessly, she exploded.  Hera choked on her cry, releasing the hold she on his hair to press her fist against her mouth, tensing and shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure crested over her.  

Hera struggled to breathe, her head spinning, body on fire and still wired for more.  Kanan drew his hand from thcun across her belly, slipping between her legs.  She groaned and ground against him.  She needed to feel him again, inside her, _right now_.  Hera opened her eyes and lifted her head to tell him as much, when the expression on his face nearly broke her heart in its wonder.

He continued to stroke her, gently, but he was staring at her, his muscles taut and straining.  He swallowed hard.  His voice was hoarse.  “I love you.  And I want you so badly right now.”

Hera allowed her eyes to roll closed at his admission, groaning with need as his fingers prepared her.  She reached down to still his hand, aching as she pulled away, but intent on sharing some of the same pleasure he’d bestowed upon her.  And, admittedly, wanting to hear him in the same incoherent mess, even for a brief moment.  

She sat up.  “I told you last night, love, you have me.  And if I’m not mistaken, you just _had_ me,” she purred, and his pupils blew even wider with want. “But first, I want a little bit of you, too…”

 

~*~

 

There were worse things than spending the time hurtling through hyperspace in his cabin, stuck in a secluded cycle of love-making and sleep.   

Nonethless, needing to stretch and ingest something a little more substantial than fruit and water, Kanan had extricated himself from Hera’s limbs to pull on his sleep clothes and venture to the galley.  There, the rest of his crew - his _family_ , he’d long since decided - had greeted him with much enthusiasm, obviously pleased to see him up and around, and had practically fallen all over themselves to get him whatever he wanted to eat before shooing him back to rest with knowing grins.      

He certainly felt much better, but fatigue lingered.  Slipping back beneath the covers, Hera once again curling up against him, he’d dozed on and off while relishing in his rather unusual feeling of contentment, rested and satiated.

 _Worse things, indeed_.

Kanan yawned, exhaling slowly and opening his eyes to the low running lights of his cabin.  Really, it should be absurd how remarkably just a few blankets and pillows, the right warm body next to his (oh, and absolutely _why_ that warm body was next to his), could shift the ambience of the otherwise nondescript and empty space.  He was keenly aware that this peace would not linger, but he was determined to savor it.  And he was just so immensely grateful that even his darker thoughts were struggling to quash the pleasure.

“What are you thinking about so intently?”

“I’m not.”

“You are. I can smell the smoke.”

Kanan chuckled, in spite of himself.  “All right.”  He was silent for a few more beats, and Hera shifted, resting her chin lightly on his chest so that she could look at him.  He swept his hand lightly over thcun, cognizant of the shiver it caused, then resumed his gentle trail up and down her back.  She was patient with her silence, her eyes encouraging.  “Just considering the more realistic outcomes of the past few weeks and feeling decidedly - _supremely_ \- thankful.  Logically, there’s no sense in rehashing it, but there’s also no denying how those situations generally play out in terms of both the information and the hostage, and - ”

He paused.  Damn the darkness.

“They didn’t break you, Kanan.”

_They would have -_

He sighed.  He looked at her, her vibrant green eyes, feeling the warmth of her skin and the softness of her touch.  Her words, ever-melodious to his ears, seemed to stir the Force and peace settled over him.

She was right.

Kanan shook his head.  His arm tightened around her and he drew a deep, clarifying breath, his eyes closing in earnest relief.  “They didn’t.  Thank you.”

 

  
_Bent, but not broken._


End file.
